8. Salvatore
eight
Salvatore
Fury, anger, rage.
I don’t have words to describe how I feel when I walk out of her apartment and back to my car. I never get out of control like that. Never. And I sure do not force myself on women. I should know better. I will never be like him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I roar every time my fist hits the console of the car. I take a deep breath to calm down and focus. I close my eyes, and all I can see is her standing in that kitchen, defying my presence and standing her ground, making me act the way I did. And all I can think of is the taste of lemons mixed with wine from her lips.
I need to stay away from this woman.
Everything she finds she could use against me, and from the look in her eyes, she doesn’t intend to stop her investigation. For some reason, she is too invested in this story.
I still have my doubts about her. Is it the story she’s chasing or is there something more? And I can’t deal with that now. I do not have time for this. Not when I don’t know who my enemy is and what they want.
The moment I drive away from her place, I want to go back, though I’m not sure why. I’m still thinking about her as I pull into the private floor of the underground garage of the hotel. I don’t notice the car that does not belong here until I get out of my own car. The moment I exit, I can feel the tension in the air and that there is danger close by.
I take a look around. Everything seems as usual other than two men that get out of the black SUV across from where I parked. When they walk in my direction, I stiffen and reach for the gun under my suit jacket, thinking of the best way to take both of them out in seconds.
They both raise their hands, showing they don’t have guns, and walk toward me. “We’re here to talk. We have a message for you.”
“I’m listening.” Not caring for their peace speech, I grip the gun inside my holster.
“Our boss wants your territory.”
I cock a brow and laugh sarcastically. “What territory?” Are they for real?
“Oh, come on, Catalano. You know it. Our boss is willing to let you have your precious hotel,” one of them says, adding, “Rest. He will take from you if you agree or not.”
I look at the men. I’m not sure who I’m dealing with. I have never seen them before. “Who is your boss?” I question, curious to know who my new enemy is.
“That’s not important. What is is the fact he is not the one to mess with.”
I take a step toward them. “You should tell your boss, if he is what you say he is, he should show his face and not be a coward who hides behind his lackeys. If he wants something, he should come and get it himself and show me how mighty he is.” I take my gun out and load it before pointing at them. “Now leave the premises while you’re still breathing, and I’ll reconsider my rule of not killing unarmed men,” I say as I see Dante, followed by two soldiers, walking into the garage.
“You are making a mistake, Catalano,” one of them warns as they run back to their car and drive away, escaping before Dante can reach them.
I don’t say anything; I nod toward Dante and walk inside my hotel. Dante will make sure they leave. But I keep playing the encounter in my head. Who the hell thinks he can take my territory?
“They have been caught on cameras, but it seems like they didn’t care. I asked the security team and no one recognizes them,” Dante says from his seat. After he made sure they were off my property, he went into the security area and took images from the camera. The men were idiots showing their faces on cameras. But I guess it’s a good thing for me.
I throw the dart into the board, hitting the black space just a little outside the small red circle of the bullseye. Throwing darts relaxes me. It’s something I do to think.
“Did Marco have any luck yet?” Before he came to my office, Dante sent recordings of our security cameras to Marco to run their faces through his programs.
“Not yet, but he is working on it.”
I throw another dart. “It’s a little confusing. Why would anyone come here and think I would give them my territory and be so generous as to leave me the hotel? I would ask for the hotel and clean all the money through it. Or take everything.”
“I think they’re just testing the waters to see how far you’re willing to go.”
“Yes, but whoever they are, they know what significance this hotel has to me, and I will never give it up. They know things about me. That makes me think of family and most definitely the inner circle.”
Just as I want to throw another dart, Dante’s knife flies through the air and hits the center of the board.
“We have a rat,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Yes, we have a traitor. Or traitors.”
It took Marco two more days to find out who the men were, and he asked to meet. Since those men appeared in my garage, I’m sure security there has been compromised. So, here I am in my father’s mansion, that I use only for meetings with a few men, and Marco is one of them. To the outside world, the place looks deserted, with security systems well-hidden and motion sensors that alarm me even if a squirrel passes. Biometric entry access opens heavy mansion doors for only few men with permission to enter.
Everyone thinks I sold the place, and I let people think what they wanted and made it my safehouse.
There is a high-end security system that protects my property and everything inside that is well hidden beneath the unkempt surroundings of the mansion. Overgrown and unruly bushes and untidy plants, broken flowerpots, and some old, broken garden furniture.
The outside gives vibes of a home filled with ghosts. I’m sure there’s a chance a ghost could live there.
I park my Maserati and exit. After using my hand on the biometric plate beside the door, I enter the mansion and close the door behind me. I try not to let memories take me back to the time I lived here. To the lies I was raised with. I rush down the corridor and enter the first door on the right into my father’s office. I used to sneak around there as a small child just to see a glimpse of him, and after to listen to him and do whatever he wanted me to, just to satisfy him.
I don’t have to wait for Marco because he’s already inside, saving me from my memories.
Marco, tall and lean, his dirty blond curls falling over his glasses-covered eyes like always, is already sitting in his chair with his tablet in front of him. His right leg rests on his left leg.
His hacking talent is more than impressive. There is only one other person I know who can do what Marco can. He can enter through any door, no matter the security system.
I sit in the chair opposite him. “What have you got for me?”
He looks from his tablet and smirks. “What I’ve got is epic and a big problem.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m listening.”
He turns his tablet toward me and shows me pictures of men I have never seen before. Until it comes to the pictures of three men sitting in the strip club. Two of those men are the same men who threatened me that night in my underground garage. I sit up, alarmed, and look over at Marco, who is still smirking.
“The men who cornered you work for a guy named Federico Sabatini, born in Chicago to Italian parents who came to the USA not long before he was born. They were foot soldiers for De Angelo. His parents were killed when he was twelve years old, and he was sent back to Italy to his grandparents. He has been part of ‘Ndrangheta since he was sixteen. He allegedly saved the life of ‘Ndrangheta’s boss, capocrimine Domenico Ruggeri, who took him under his protection to return his debt. There wasn’t proof, but there were some questions about his parents’ deaths. Some say they betrayed De Angelo, so they were killed. I’m still awaiting verification. However, Camorra in Italy don’t want anything to do with him. And therefore Federico used any information he had against Camorra so he could influence his way into joining ‘Ndrangheta.” I nod, not saying a word. “He came back to the USA after Camorra’s boss was arrested.”
“Did he have anything to do with his arrest?”
“Not sure, but I got something more interesting on that matter.” He grins like the Cheshire Cat.
“Spit it out.”
“The journalist, before she became Isabel Roberts, was Isabella Ruggeri.”
I sit upright. My muscles contract. “Come again?” I lean forward.
“The same year Isabel’s mother died, she disappeared. Ruggeri lost his mind. She became a ghost. If I didn’t do a background check on Sabatini, I would never have found out, and I only found her because of one picture taken at some party where she was in the background.”
My mind is blown with this information. How is this possible? Marco’s voice pulls my attention back to him.
“I wanted to check everyone in the picture so I could get a closer look at the people surrounding him. To learn if there was anyone he cared about. And when my face recognition program matched a woman in the back with Isabel Roberts, I knew what to look at next. I found her files sealed by the Italian government. That was the reason I couldn’t find anything before. I looked in the wrong place. There is some kind of organization that helps ‘Ndrangheta kids out of the Crime Organization. It seems they helped her.”
I nod, exhaling, and run a hand through my hair.
I’ve heard about the organization. I have been asked by my associates in Italy countless times to share information if I know something.
We are Italian American Mafia, and we sure don’t get involved in business across the ocean. Different organization, different rules. Business is just that, and if I knew something, I would save it for myself and use it when I saw fit.
“That’s not all.” Marco interrupts my thoughts again.
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for the bomb to drop because Marco always leaves the most shocking things for the end. “What?”
He types something on his tablet. “She was supposed to marry Sabatini.”
I still, my mind spiraling with thoughts.
What does that mean? Is she working with him? My blood boils as I think of her interfering with my business, snooping in my office at the event I held.
“I don’t think they work together.” Marco’s voice cuts through me. “I looked into her. I know her every move since she became Isabel Roberts, and that does not include organized crime. She left for a reason and didn’t want to go back.”
“Well, that is just too bad for her. She dug her own grave.” I stand. “I want to know everything about Sabbatini and Ruggeri.”
“Already done. However, there is one thing you need to know. I talked to Dante. He is still on the lookout. He didn’t find proof, but we need to take into consideration that your father’s consigliere, Ramellia, and his little group of ideologists could be the ones feeding him with internal information.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “He didn’t tell me what he found.”
“Because he wanted to be sure first. No one has seen Ramellia for some time now, and he didn’t leave the country. It could be that he was planning something, or he just left this life which I doubt. I’m looking into that. He smirks. “Now, to the fun stuff.”
He passes me the tablet and I sit back. I take my time reading the report. If they want to bring war to me, it's better to be prepared.
I take my sweet time getting to know Ruggeri. He is a ruthless capocrimine, and the Italian Carabinieri have their hands full with him. And from the pictures of him with Isabel, I can see he was a devoted father.
‘‘Ndrangheta’s power is given by birth, similar to us. Only, Ruggeri doesn’t have a son. So, he took Sabatini under his protection, taught him everything, sealed the deal, and gave his daughter to him.
Ruggeri’s medical report says he had an injury when he was younger, and because of it, he couldn’t have any kids. Isabel was his miracle, and he made her his princess.
Downing the rest of my drink, I lean back in the chair in my father’s office. Marco left me hours ago, and I’ve read this report so many times that I’ve memorized it.
I’ve been thinking about the outcome of the situation I’m in. War or no war. Now, war is always the better solution.
Sometimes, war is needed to make a statement and claim my throne.
And that is what I will do.
I will sacrifice a small part of my life for that, but I will make my statement and claim my throne. I will leave no choice to those who think they can take over what I have been working for, for which I have lost my humanity. They will fall at my feet and beg me to stay alive. Every traitor who helped Sabatini will also be brought to their knees.
I will not allow people to stab me in the back.
I refuse to live a life where I need to keep looking over my shoulder every second.
I refuse to bow to anyone.
I may lead the family toward a better future and modern mafia life, but that doesn’t mean I will not kill.
That’s why every traitor will be taken down.
I laugh in the darkness filled with ghosts of my father's past. At least now I have a reason, a purpose, an excuse to tarnish her perfect little world and make it mine.
Now, I have reason to let my desire take control until I've used her as I please in every way possible.
“You want to do what?” The shock on Gabriel’s face is obvious. After I woke up with purpose this morning, I called Gabriel to join me in the gym for a sparring session.
I need his opinion about the more strategic side of my plan. Because no matter what he thinks, I will go through with it. It is one of those ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ plans.
I cock my eyebrow and use his distraction to deliver him a jab, hitting his jaw on his left side. He stumbles backwards but recovers quickly back to his fighting stance.
“Have any better ideas?”
We circle one another, studying each other. Since we were teenagers, we both boxed. I left as soon as my father needed me by his side, but he kept fighting and still does sometimes. He has won a few belts and trophies, and has a whole fan circle. Mostly girls he has no interest in.
I don’t need to be number one in boxing. I can defeat him either way.
Jab, cross, hook. The last one lands on my midsection, hitting my ribs hard. He did that on purpose.
“How about you just make a deal with Ruggeri? Give him his daughter back and secure the alliance?”
“I may leave her to choose,” I pant. I get closer to him. In my stance from one foot to another, we weave and bob, avoiding each other's punches.
“And you’re sure she will choose you?”
“I’m sure she will because that will be her only choice. The other choice she will not want but need.” I take a step back and aim a hook at his jaw. We keep baiting one another until we’re bruised and out of breath.
“Now, let’s talk about the more strategic side of this plan,” I say after we sit exhausted on the bench outside the ring.
Dante and I have been through a lot together and I trust him with my life. His concern is understandable because this is who he is. He thinks before deciding what to say or do. He is a strategist, a rational man who was by my side from the very beginning. His support and the support of other men who want to be by my side are leading this family into the future, creating a better life for them as just mere criminals. Power is a wonderful thing, a game, in which I prefer to be the creator, exerting control that I plan to use for a purpose. For my family and the promise of a better future and modern mafia.
My plan will give me more power and make me new allies. And maybe, just for a while, it will scratch the itch that has been bothering me for a few weeks now.
While Gabriel and I work on strategies and plans for our defense in the war that was unwanted but brought to me, all I can think about is her big brown eyes and how they will look when I tell her what I want.